


A Case in Three Glances

by JSMachines (jaimesselfishmachines)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Cheating, Established Relationship, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Something I've noticed missing from Barisi fics, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 05:04:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8476417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimesselfishmachines/pseuds/JSMachines
Summary: When ADA Rafael Barba is arrested for the rape and brutal assault of a rich stockbroker, the pretty facade of his life begins to fall apart. His job, his marriage, his family, and his past all begin to make themselves very public.Even worse, Sonny begins to crack under the stress of it all.





	1. The Case: Two Guys.

**27th July**  
**4:49 am**  
**Manhattan SVU,** **16th Precinct**

Rafael shivered; without his signature three-piece suit on, he felt… vulnerable. He stared at his reflection in the two-way glass, not knowing whether or not the squad could see him. Not knowing whether or not Sonny could see him. He wondered what Sonny thought of him right now. He’d never gotten a chance to explain this misunderstanding, and there was no way he could ask for a lawyer. His professional reputation would be ruined by a half-assed defence provided by whatever third rate attorney was immoral enough to accept him as a client. Rafael shook his head. How quickly had he forgotten about attorney-client privilege! Still, being an ADA hadn’t afforded him any friends among the city’s sleazy legal eagles. Even at four a.m., in sweatpants and an old _Harvard_ t-shirt, Rafael knew that there was no way he was getting out of this smelling anything like a rose.

Rafael tapped his palm nervously on the metal table in front of him, finding some calming satisfaction in hearing the clang of his ring coming into contact with the table. No matter what, he’d always have this. He’d always have Sonny. He let his wedding ring clang, and clang again against the table, if only to disturb the silence in the empty room. He wondered how long this would take. He was familiar with the system – the Special Victims Unit was known to bend the rules to secure convictions, and for three long years he had been complicit in it. The one thing that Rafael had left was his stellar reputation. He was always by-the-book, not a mark on his professional record. Guess it all ended here. He put his head in his hands. How had he let this get so far?

Still. The fact that he’s in this room means that the police’s case against him isn’t strong enough to stand alone. He just has to make it through the next 48 hours, then the case against him goes away, he gets a transfer – everything is solved.

Sonny.

He keeps forgetting about Sonny. He hoped Sonny didn’t get hurt in all this. That’s the last thing Barba wanted. 48 hours is all he needed to survive – but that was easier said than done. Barba hugged himself tighter. It was so damn cold. Why hadn’t Benson, Fin, Rollins, or Amaro come in to question him yet? Rafael didn’t expect Sonny to be interrogating him. Sonny wouldn’t come see him in this state… and Barba wouldn’t want him to.

The door clunked open, revealing a well-rested Detective Odafin Tutuola carrying two coffees. The smell wafted, and filled the room, and Barba suddenly knew he had to have the contents of that cup. “Morning, Barba. You good?” the detective greeted the hunched-over Assistant District Attorney. Rafael Barba lifted his head, and stared at Fin.  
“Is that coffee?” Barba asked hopefully. It was so damn cold, and at this point, 24 hours in, Barba would love any source of warmth. He laughed nervously, “I’m not exactly getting the VIP treatment, am I?”

“We’re trying our best to keep it in-house. That’s the best I can do.” He shrugged, and extended his spare cup across the table to Barba. Fin watched as Barba snatched up the coffee, and cradled it in his hands. Fin shook his head, watching as Barba shook and gulped down the coffee. If he wasn’t a suspect, Fin might have felt sorry for him. He looked unrefined and common, like he was a scared little kid from the Bronx again. It was unsettling. “You cold?” Fin asked. Barba nodded. All he wanted to do was go home to Sonny. This was all a misunderstanding and Sonny had to know that. Sonny had to, right?

“You know this girl – Elizabeth Samuel – says you hurt her, right?”

“What do you mean?” Barba had thought this was about Sonny.

Fin sat down opposite Barba, and spoke softly. “She says you tied her up – “

“No,”

“That you drugged her – “

“No.”

“That you beat her – “

“No – “

“That you beat her with a crowbar, then you raped her, and left her for dead,”

“No!” Barba stood up, and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know her. I’ve never met her. I wouldn’t… couldn’t do that to another person. I…” Barba formed a fist and exhaled ever so slowly. “I didn’t touch her. I didn’t…” He shivered and hugged himself. “I swear.”

“Are you sure you never met her?” Fin hadn’t moved from his initial spot. He regarded a distraught Barba sadly, “We have your blood at the crime scene.”

Barba rubbed his arms in an effort to keep warm, wincing when he touched his elbow. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. They had his DNA? He didn’t do it. He couldn’t have, could he? Wait. “I was with Sonny that night.”

“The 15th? Sonny says you went to a fundraiser – alone. And didn’t come back until the following day. So, Raf,” the nickname sounded so foreign on Fin’s tongue, “what happened – you just wanted a good time? I get it: marriage is tough, sometimes you have to spice things up and – “

“No. Fin. You…don’t understand.” Barba stammered, “F-fuck. I need to see Sonny.”

“Right after you explain what happened.” He was tired of letting rapists get off just because they were well connected. As far as Fin was concerned, Special Victims Unit had done enough favours for Assistant District Attorney Barba; it was time for the ADA to start talking. Barba yawned. “Is this boring you, Barba?” Fin snapped.

“It’s five a.m., Fin. I’m tired.” Barba murmured, rubbing his eyes. “Please, I wanna see Sonny. C-can I…” He quickly crosses the room, and stares into the two-way mirror. He raises his fist, and raps sharply on the glass. “Sonny! Can you hear me?” He bangs on the glass again, yelling his husband’s name: “Sonny! I didn’t do it! Baby? You have to believe me! Sonny? Are you there?”

“Sit yo ass down!” Fin commanded, interrupting what was about to become a frantic string on nonsensical and unfulfilled requests. “Barba!” Even then, Rafael continued his tirade, banging on the glass almost rhythmically, as though it would somehow erase this entire situation. “Rafael!”

“Sonny! Sonny!” Barba halted abruptly, clutching his stomach. Fin stood, spun around and gripped Barba by the shoulders. Barba hunched. “I need…” Barba twisted out of Fin’s grasp and collapsed in front of the waste basket of the corner of the room. Subsequently, the sounds of violent retching filled the room, echoing off the walls. The detective, seeing as Barba would (more likely than not) be silent for the next couple minutes, took Barba’s vomiting as his cue to leave. Barba didn’t register the door open and shut, didn’t hear Fin exit. Shit, his throat hurt. His face, nose, and mouth burned with acid and the remains of freshly brewed coffee, and sweat coated his forehead from the force of the excursion. He stumbled to his feet.

His head spun, and he immediately regretted his decision. His exhaustion overtook his body, and he slumped to the floor. Still, he shivered. Why couldn’t they just turn up the heat? The tiled floor was even colder than the room had been. “Dominick…” he whispered hoarsely. He needed Sonny here. He needed the heat turned up. He needed to stop shaking. Barba curled into a ball, attempting to ease the soreness running through his body. A nap would solve all his problems right now. He just had to close his eyes and everything would be fine. Sonny would forgive him for not returning home in time for breakfast. _Yeah, Sonny was forgiving,_ thought Barba as he let the darkness overtake him.

“Oh shit.” Fin could have sworn that he was only gone five minutes at most, but… He burst in the door to the interrogation room, crouching beside Rafael Barba’s lifeless body. His fingers found a scarred wrist and checked for a pulse. “We need a bus!”

 

* * *

 

In another room, Detective Dominick Carisi was on the verge of tears. _This is all my fault,_ he thought as he stared at the live-stream interview of his husband’s convulsing on the concrete. Fin propped Barba’s head up with his jacket before cutting the feed. Against better stylistic judgement, Carisi ran his fingers through his gelled hair, leaving it all out of place. Olivia stood above him, trying her hardest to keep composure, even after they’d both watched their ADA suffer what seemed to be a nervous breakdown. She desperately wanted to leave the room and check on Barba’s condition, but they would never solve Elizabeth Samuel’s case if she did that.

“Sonny.”

The young detective snapped up, diverting his attention up to his senior officer, even as his eyes glanced habitually to the now-blank monitor. He knows what Rafael’s like… or, he thought he did. Rafael had never freaked out like that before, or looked so scared, so small, so sick. Sonny’s jaw ached as he struggled to smother the tears threatening to fall. He couldn’t cry in front of his sergeant – what would the squad think?

“Huh?” Sonny had been too distracted in his own head to hear his name repeated by Olivia, or to notice the sergeant coming closer. Soon, Benson was perched on the corner of the table, forcing Detective Carisi to look up to her.

“Walk me through the events of the 15th to the 16th. We need to know exactly where you both were on both of those nights.”

“Am I under arrest?”

“You can leave as soon as you explain why Ms Samuel – “ Olivia placed a folder down in front of Carisi, who flinched at the sound it made when it came into contact with the oaken table, “ – is claiming your husband –“ She opened the folder, showing Carisi the photos from the rape kit, “beat and raped her.” The photographs splayed in front of him: a dark-skinned thigh littered with puncture marks, wounds bloody, angry, and gaping. Sonny could only imagine the other thigh looked the same. Purple bruising covered the ribcage, standing out even against Elizabeth’s dark skin tone. Bite marks were clearly measured on her breasts, and Carisi winced – _Rafael did like to bite,_ he thought – and those in the picture looked painful. He resisted the urge to hug himself or touch the places on his body where Raf had left marks. Olivia would have picked up on it in a second.

“He didn’t do it,” Even as Carisi said it, his voice faltered. He didn’t know whether or not Raf did it, and it killed Carisi to think of himself as a traitor. _Is my husband capable of this?_ _Did I marry a monster?_ “I…I know he didn’t.”

“Do you?” Olivia challenged, “Are you saying Elizabeth Samuel is lying?” She held up the last picture, illustrating a pattern of fingerprints practically embedded in Ms Samuel’s neck. He wanted to say Elizabeth was lying, but he wasn’t so sure. Sonny’s fingertips graced his own neck – only for a second – retracing the path Barba’s hands had made months ago.

“He isn’t capable of such a thing.” Sonny protested, but at this point, he doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince.

“He’s never hit you?” Olivia asked, recalling how Sonny flinched whenever someone raised their voice. Right now, Detective Dominick Carisi looked scared of his own shadow.

“No – “

“Not even when he’s had one scotch too many?” Olivia saw Sonny hesitate, and took it as her opening, “We’ve all seen what it’s like after hard cases; he just drinks to forget, right?” Sonny nodded, and Olivia knew she was going on the right track, “You try and talk, but he shuts you out. So you cut him off – that’s enough – and then he turns on you. All the anger and resentment he harbours toward the system… you get the brunt of it, don’t you.”

Sonny refuses to look Liv in the eye. She watches in silence as his shoulders shake, and he sobs quietly into the table. That’s as good an admission as any.

* * *

 **Flashback to 22nd December**  
**Carisi-Barba Condo  
** **Midtown Manhattan**

  
Sonny was enjoying a rare day off over Christmas break when Barba hovered through the door with a grunt, and the smell of scotch strong on his breath. Why hadn’t Raf called him? Had he driven home drunk? “Raf, baby, you okay?” Barba stumbled to the couch in a wholly undignified manner, collapsing next to his husband.

“Mhmm, I just missed you,” he mumbles, breathing into Sonny’s neck. Sonny shifts uncomfortably under the dead weight. “Wastha matter? You didn’t miss me?” Rafael sits up, and glares at Sonny. “Of course you didn’t.” Rafael gets up quicker than he came down, shrugging off his suit jacket into the space he left in the sofa.

“No, Raf,” Sonny stands up, reaching for Barba’s elbow to get his attention. Sonny gets a fistful of Barba, who yells out; spinning around far quicker than the ADA’s drunk state will give him credit for. Barba lunges for Sonny. Sonny, caught unawares, stumbles backward onto the carpeted floor. Barba’s hands almost search for Sonny’s throat, finding purchase, then squeezing some untold fury from his trachea. Sonny coughs and grips at Barba’s wrists attempting to remove them. Barba, in retaliation, places a firm knee on Sonny’s diaphragm. Barba is stronger than Sonny thought. Sonny begins clawing at Barba’s hands as his head begins to spin, “Please,” he tries to say, but he can’t breathe.

Is he dying?

Of course the ADA apologized profusely once he realized Sonny was in pain… _or had Raf wanted to watch him choke?_ There was no excuse for his husband’s actions that night, but Sonny had forgiven him anyway.

_Maybe Sonny was too quick to forgive._

* * *

**27th July**  
**6:11 am  
** **Manhattan SVU, 16th Precinct**

Placing a cup of warm coffee in front of the junior detective, Olivia asked one more question:  “Did he do it?” Sonny still purposely avoided Benson’s eyes, deciding instead to stare at the coffee like it might have offended him.

Clearing his throat, “He might have.” was all he replied, letting his head hang in defeat.


	2. The Case: El Gato and a Gram.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She sets the glass down on the hotel bar, twisting it on the glass mantle, almost marvelling at how the bar lighting reflects off her many rings and the rim of the glass. It was soft, the perfect cover for high-profile affairs and low-profile indiscretions.

**Flashback to 15 th July**  
**The Night of the Attack**  
**10 pm.**  
**The Manhattan Four Seasons Hotel Bar**

“Lizzie,” Barba whispered. His voice may have been soft in volume, but it was firm in temperament. He fixed his bow-tie, and adjusting his cuff, “Time to go.” Barba finished.

Elizabeth Samuel grunted, draining her glass of scotch. “What?” She smirked, staring Barba from over the rim, “A stock broker not good enough for your fancy functions, Rafi?” She bats her eyelashes at Rafael in a way that makes Barba’s blood boil. She sets the glass down on the hotel bar, twisting it on the glass mantle, almost marvelling at how the bar lighting reflects off her many rings and the rim of the glass. It was soft, the perfect cover for high-profile affairs and low-profile indiscretions.

Rafael sighed, weary from repetitive conversation. He and Lizzie must have had this conversation a million times over the decade or so that’d known each other. It was always when he wanted out. _Never before he committed the mortal sin_ , his very Catholic conscience would remind him. Never before he betrayed Sonny and brought her to bed with him. Something about her – her doe-y eyes, biting sarcasm, soft smile maybe – was intoxicating. Or maybe it was because they were both hooked on heroin and fucking each other was the closest the two high-functioning professionals could get to self-destruction.

“Elizabeth, I’m happily married.” He had said it to her before on many occasions, but Barba still cringes internally at his statement; he wasn’t happily… anything. Not unless he was high with her. Every time he thinks of this scenario: the one where he betrays Sonny’s trust, the one where he steps out on five or so years of marriage, the one where he always swears it’s the last time, he feels sick to his stomach. Still, his voice is confident and unwavering; as though their sweat-slicked bodies weren’t flush against each other not even an hour ago. He watches Elizabeth roll her eyes, clearly just as tired as he is with this conversation. His thumb sneaks below his shirt cuff and gently swipes across the track marks his tuxedo is currently covering. It’s calming, though not for very long.

“You keep saying that.” Elizabeth hisses, gripping Barba’s wrist tightly. She stands and Barba can feel the ghost of her rings digging into his wrist. Barba’s eyes dart left, then right, checking for witnesses. He’d squeeze the life out of her right now for her disrespect; but he can’t have a scene, not here. Not with the mayor, county officials, and top-ranking police officials just across the wing. “It’s been 10 years, Rafael,” Elizabeth takes the time to pronounce Barba’s name in Spanish, the sounds darting from her tongue like bullets. “I’m good enough to do a line with but not t – “

“Shut up.” Barba jerked out of Elizabeth’s grasp, raising an eye from the bartender. Barba fishes a Franklin from his inner breast pocket. “You saw nothing.” He says, sliding it across the bar. The bartender’s hand hovers for a bit, debating whether to take the bribe, before snatching the money from the counter. She nods a thanks then quickly disappears from sight. Turning back to Elizabeth, he glares at her, the heat of his stare aided by the three glasses of scotch he got through.

“Where **is** Dominick?” Lizzie lays a palm on the mantle with a solid clang. “This happens every time. We have fun, Rafael. Why do you keep coming back here if you’re so happily married?” Her tone was curious, free of the judgement Barba feared. Even so, Barba hates how Elizabeth’s stare stabs through the façade he so masterfully projects in the courtroom. He doesn’t like being vulnerable. Vulnerability makes you powerless, and Barba had had enough of that in el barrio. He didn’t need in here – in an up-scale Manhattan hotel bar – some thirty-something years later. It’s not as though he hasn’t asked himself the same question. _Why did he keep coming here?_

Part of him thinks he just keeps forgetting not to. Elizabeth is so warm and comforting – and proved a valuable asset in his early days as a clerk in the DA’s office.  
Asset.  
 She was just an asset, a means to an end, valuable in a certain context. He didn’t love her, he couldn’t love her. He was happily married – and she was… his heroin dealer. Maybe all that junk had fried the rational centres of his brain. No one with any sense falls for their dealer. Maybe Rafael just forgot to stop seeing her when Sonny came along. Rafael had been nothing but abrasive toward the Staten Island detective, yet Sonny was always eager to please. Maybe that’s why they work so well – Barba wants power and Sonny gives up all of his. Loyal to a fault, his husband is. Probably wouldn’t even turn on him if Barba revealed he was Satan himself. No, Dominick Carisi would probably shrug, smile, and say ‘ _We can make it work.’_ Dominick Carisi doesn’t understand what Rafael needs.

That could be the reason he still goes to Liz when he needs a fix. Rafael ‘ _The Thrill Seeker’_ Barba always craves a challenge. The drugs were one option, but Elizabeth Samuel presents herself in unique form and glory. He reaches for her neck. Instead of flinching, she stares him down, feeling his fingers peek below her collar and traces the thick bruise that danced across her flesh. Her eyes flutter closed and she hums to herself, no particular tune. Rafael curves his hand round, placing a heavy palm on the back of Lizzie’s neck.

“Why don’t you go back to your office, huh? See what stocks are down…” Rafael laughs, purposely avoiding answering the question. He tries to keep his voice cordial, but he knows they can both feel the tenseness of the situation. She knows she’s hit a nerve, and doesn’t press him on it. Unlike lawyers, she knows when to quit. Her brown eyes stay half lidded as she ponders on her own question. _Why does **she** keep coming here?_ It’s not for the high, she knows that for sure, but doing heroin alone is depressing. So, she does heroin with him. Maybe it’s for the sex… she never liked entertaining taken men’s advances, but when all is said and done, she _was_ here before Dominick even graduated the academy. Parts of the exchange left her hollow: knowing that Raf declared his love for Sonny openly, that Sonny saw the raw and unguarded form of Rafael Barba, and not just the titbits he accidentally lets slip when the heroin high got a hold of his tongue. That every time Rafael Barba was with her, there was an oblivious Dominick Carisi somewhere who believed him to be faithful. She regrets ever giving him that first hit.

Rafael sighs audibly, breaking Elizabeth from her thoughts. He clenches his free hand into a fist and exhales slowly. “And try to stay out of trouble, hmm?” The threat hangs low in the air. Rafael was good at threats – he quiet ones that kept themselves casual when introducing themselves, ensuring that they never ruined the mood. Elizabeth’s brow furrows as she weighs the scenario in her mind. No doubt that Raf’s got big brass balls – big enough to leverage his power in the DA’s office and cause problems for her. There’s a silent loyalty between dealer and client, but Elizabeth knew better than anyone that addicts are unpredictable.

She smiles, unable to hide the pure venom in her expression, “Sounds good, Rafi.” Elizabeth keeps up the friendly façade, but sees no point in it. She ducks out of Barba’s grasp, and touches the back of her palm to his face. He reaches for it, but she snatches her hand away before he can get a hold of her again. Elizabeth reaches for her bag and nods a goodbye for Barba, turning toward the exit. Barba blocks her path with ease. He kisses her roughly, not hesitating to bite into her bottom lip possessively. Liz jerks backward, caught off-guard. She knew she should have cut him off after two… the last drink always turns him into this monster of a man.

Still, she quickly regains her composure. Running her fingers across her lip to check for blood, she watches Barba intently – just for a second – and sees the bags under his eyes for the first time. “Goodnight, Rafael. Good to see you again.” Her departure is short and stiff, and echoes none of the ease that came with their earlier engagements. Barba watches her leave, his eyes following her ass right out the door. Removing his tuxedo jacket from the back of the chair, he shrugs it on. He allows his wedding ring to trace patterns in the condensation on the outside of the glass before draining it of its contents. The scotch is warm and comforting: just like Elizabeth.

He takes his leave of the bar, almost retracing Elizabeth’s earlier movements. Instead, he makes his way to the East Wing of the Four Seasons, where a ballroom full of officials and Manhattan socialites, and political movers-and-shakers with big chequebooks would be drinking champagne and waiting to make a tax-deductible contribution to the almost-corrupt Mayor’s re-election campaign.

 

 

 **27 th July**  
**11:32am**  
**Elizabeth Samuel’s Apartment**

“…I’m sorry, Detectives. I can’t testify.” Elizabeth shook her head. Almost instinctively, she tugged upwards on the turtleneck sweater she was wearing. It’d become a bad habit, whenever she felt eyes on her, she would tug. Then again, it was probably the best of her bad habits. Her eyes tracked Detective Amaro across the room, who looked at her quizzically.

“Anything to do with this?” He stretched his arm out from behind the bookcase, and twisted, revealing a small baggie of white powder. “So, do you do cocaine or heroin, Ms Samuel?” Nick accused, judgemental eyes acutely trained on their now not-so-credible victim. If they knew, then Barba had nothing on her, right?

Seeing the opportunity, Olivia pounced. “Look,” she said, taking a seat beside Elizabeth on the leather couch, “we’re not here to arrest you. We just need more details about that night.”

“I told you everythi – “

“Tell us again.” Sensing Elizabeth’s hesitation, Olivia attempted the hard sell, “If you refuse to cooperate, we’ll have to arrest you for obstruction, possession, and filing a false police report.”

Elizabeth practically jumped up, surprisingly dexterous given the extent of her injuries. She strode across the room, digging through the same bookcase Amaro had just searched. The two SVU squad members stayed silent as Elizabeth found whatever she was looking for. She splayed open the pages of what seemed to be old photo albums, her perfectly manicured nails occasionally scraping against the edge of a page. Just as Amaro was about to say something, Elizabeth said:

“Here.” She pointed to a specific page, an array of photographs displayed, each with a different date written in sharp black ink beside it. Amaro and Olivia marvel at the photograph for a second before the anger sets in. Barba had lied to them all. The crusader – so correct, so upstanding, so by-the-book – was a criminal; and if Barba could lie about something so simple, what else was he lying about. “Rafi said he’d never heard of me before? That’s us at the DA’s gala dinner nine years ago.” There in all their glory was a stunning Elizabeth Samuel in a tight, but elegant navy dress, head thrown back in laughter with Barba’s cheesy grin to complement.

“He probably forgot.” Amaro said, playing devil’s advocate.

She pointed to another picture, “Us, seven years ago. Mayor Grant’s Inaugural Ball. He met Dominick that year, I think.”

“You know Dominick?” Nick asked.

Elizabeth chuckled bitterly at their ignorance, “I went to their wedding, Detective.” She pointed to another photo, and lo and behold, there she was, arm flung across Sonny’s shoulders, making a toast. Elizabeth wonders why she doesn’t find the detectives familiar, considering. Going through the timeline, she reckons it was before Barba transferred boroughs, and chalks it up to that, rather than bad memory – she never forgets a face.

“You seem close.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips tightly, “I don’t know what you’re implying, Detective, but I can assure you that we were nothing more than friends.” All of a sudden, it hurt. The knowledge that Barba never saw her as more than a plaything – something to occupy his time – to use and throw away. She’d know him for over a decade – been the only constant in his life – when he suffered through the death of his father. When he came crawling to her door in the middle of the night, in tears, begging for anything to stop the pain. When he took too much that one time, and she found him sprawled out on the bathroom floor, choking on his own vomit, near-death and freezing. And Rafael still chose Sonny over her. Why? What did Sonny have that she didn’t? Unrealistic optimism? Elizabeth understood Raf better than anyone… at least, she thought she did. Elizabeth clenched her fists at the betrayal, almost forgetting the police presence in her apartment. She exhaled slowly.

Ignoring what would obviously lead to confrontation, Olivia asked, “Did you know that Rafael was a drug user?” She explained, “We found cocaine metabolites and traces of heroin in his system. He lost consciousness during interrogation.”

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for the bastard?” Elizabeth sniped bitterly. “He drugged me, he made my body betray me, made me feel dirty and cheap, used me,” She lifted her shirt, “gave me two broken ribs…” Elizabeth closed her eyes and pursed her lips to stop them from twitching, “I’ll never feel beautiful… Fuck! I’ll never feel **safe** again.”

The tall stock broker refused to cry with an audience. Her father had always said it was a sign of weakness, but she had done this. She was the catalyst of a chemical reaction that had been set in motion a decade ago. Everything that had led to this, she’d been a part of. Elizabeth folded her arms, digging her perfectly manicured nails into the flesh of her upper arms. She sobbed openly, a series of broken cries that echoed throughout the apartment. With tears streaming down her face, Elizabeth sniffed. “Detectives. You can show yourselves out.” She whispered before leaving the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'el gato' is supposedly slang for heroin.  
> Anyway, 'The Case: A Girl and a Gun' is next.  
> Find me on tumblr @ jaimesselfishmachines


	3. The Case: A Girl and a (Smoking) Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re fucking with me, right?”

**27 th July**  
**11:49pm**  
**Manhattan SVU Squad-room**

The two women were the only ones left in the conference room after the hours had ticked by. Every detective on the squad had been in and out of that room intermittently throughout the day, but as midnight drew closer, each of them said their goodbyes and left the precinct; no doubt they were glad to get out of this mess.

“I’m taking this to trial.” Alex Cabot said, folding her arms. She had been temporarily reassigned to the department after Barba’s _how do you say_ … inability to prosecute.

“Give him a deal.” Olivia said.

“That I know he won’t take?” Alex put down the case file, “You know what he’s like.”

 “I do,” Olivia stood from her desk and walked to the other side, where Alex was sitting. Her voice was soft, almost begging, “Let him plead out. He’s got nothing more to lose.”

“We saw the photos of Ms Samuel’s injuries. I can convict him based on that alone. His own husband doesn’t believe his story!” Alex retorted. She glanced at Olivia in her peripheral vision, clenching her jaw. “Rafael Barba has a history of violent outbursts, drug, and alcohol abuse. He deserves to be put away, regardless of the office he holds.”

“You don’t know he did it.” Olivia said.

“You’re right,” Alex packed the files of Elizabeth Samuel’s case neatly into her briefcase before standing. She leaned forward, the weight of her upper body supported by her palms flat against the table. “But I do know the facts. He was unfaithful –so, capable of lying – his history of substance abuse makes him a liability – even if he is innocent, he sure as hell doesn’t belong in the DA’s Office – his blood is at the crime scene, and Elizabeth Samuel has shown herself to credible at every tu – “

“She abuses heroin too. We found it in her living room yesterday. She was also Barba’s mistress for the last ten years.”

“A long time.” Alex groaned in frustration. “She can establish pattern of behaviour then.”

“Ms Samuel refuses to testify.”

“She’s scared, Olivia.” Alex pushed the bridge of her glasses up with a finger, “Do I have to show you the pictures from the rape kit again?” Olivia held up a negating hand. “Exactly. I can prosecute this case without her.” Alex’s tone left no space for questions, but they both knew that a rape case without a complainant is no case at all. Alex sighed, “Why won’t she testify?”

“I think she’s hiding something.” Olivia tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, “Maybe she doesn’t want her boss to know about the drugs, or her friends to know about the affair. I don’t know. Either way, she won’t testify.”

“I can subpoena her.”

“You make her come to court, and she’ll go on the stand and recant. That’ll definitely get you in Judge Petrovsky’s bad books. You really think this case is worth your professional reputation?”

Alex sighed, rubbing her eyes. “How is Detective Carisi handling all this?”

“As well as expected, to be honest.” Olivia said sadly, “He still thinks he can protect Barba. I think he wants to believe Barba’s innocent.”

“You think he’s guilty?” Alexandra Cabot wanted more than anything for this whole incident never to have happened. For Ms Samuel to be going about her usual life as a broker, Barba would be prosecuting, Carisi would be at SVU, and she would be up in Albany handling appeals. Dealing with live victims was never easy, but this tangled mess could easily spell the demise of a lesser lawyer’s career. The quicker and quieter this went away, the better for one PP, SVU, the mayor, the DA’s Office, and her.

“I think that we don’t know all the facts, and this will be a headache and half to deal with.”

“I’ll see if he’ll take a plea.” She slid her briefcase off the table and nodded to Olivia. “Good night, Liv. I wish we could have reconnected under better circumstances.”

“Me too. Good night, Alex.” Olivia replied. She head to her desk, hearing Alex’s heels click-clack out the door. She sank into her chair, and rest her elbows on the desk. She steepled her hands. _Why won’t Elizabeth Samuel testify? What could she be hiding?_ Benson thought. It was late. She ought to just pack up and go home. But _something_ felt off, and until she found it, Sergeant Benson knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight.

 

* * *

 

 

 **28 th July**  
**1:13 am**  
**Mercy Hospital**

Holding onto Barba’s hand like a loving husband just felt wrong, but Carisi didn’t know what else he was expected to do. It’s not like he could investigate this even if he wanted to. Olivia had put him on desk duty the second Elizabeth had said Barba’s name. In his head, Carisi wondered if Elizabeth was okay. The injuries on file were serious – indicative of the full extent of Barba’s fury, he supposed – and Elizabeth was lucky she didn’t puncture a lung. The Rafael that Sonny thought he had married didn’t exist anymore. After everything Rafael was accused of – assault and battery, rape, drug abuse – Sonny was still sat beside him, holding his hand over the edge of a hospital bed.  
What did that say about Sonny?

“Ah, Sonny… you finally showed up.” Barba laughed hoarsely, a low and slow sound forced from the throat. “Nice to see that I had to almost die before you began to care.” He said bitterly, turning away – as much as he could – from Carisi. He couldn’t believe Carisi’s nerve, coming here after telling the police he did it – that he could have hurt Elizabeth. Like he could ever hurt Elizabeth. There was no way out of this. All because of Carisi. All he had to do was lie and say he came to the fundraiser. There were plenty of witnesses that would back him up…

“You’re fucking with me, right?” Sonny’s tongue was sharp and strong. He’d used excuse after excuse after excuse over the years to explain away Raf’s behaviour. _It was a tough case_ was the go-to for Rafael’s excessive drinking; the drinking that allows gave way to the rough sex that Sonny never really enjoyed, but put up with for the relationship’s sake. Maybe he and Rafael just like different things in the sack, sure, but Sonny always noticed a certain glow in Barba’s eyes whenever the ADA got his hands around Sonny’s throat. Barba always seemed to enjoy himself a bit more when Sonny was struggling for air… But _this isn’t the Barba I know_ was the go-to for Rafael’s more explosive outbursts; the occasions where Sonny was slammed into walls, where Sonny was shoved aside, where Sonny was yelled at and insulted. It was enough to make anyone crazy. And Sonny was sick of it.

Rafael’s eyes widened and eyebrows rose. He couldn’t recall any time in history where Sonny had spoken to him like that. Sonny had never defied him before – was it the strain of the case, or does Sonny really think that… No. Sonny thinks he’s guilty? “Sonny…”

“Call me Dominick, Rafael.” Sonny said flatly. It was a simple request, but it felt like a punch to the gut. Barba didn’t know the last time he called his husband by his actual given name… Dominick. Maybe he does deserve this. His life was a house of cards from the start – ~~Sonny~~ Dominick had been the first constant in his life – and he had squandered the reserves of his good fortune. “You’re one selfish son of a bitch. Heroin, really?”

“I can explain.” Rafael said. Could he? How does Rafael even begin to explain that he was neck-deep in an addiction he couldn’t help and had kept from his husband? Explain that his first fix was just a bit of fun that had spiralled out of control. Explain all the times that he fucked Elizabeth while Sonny was at work, or sick, or at home waiting for him. Explain how the affair had gone on for the duration of the marriage and that he’d never really been faithful. “I can explain,” Rafael repeated sadly, “but you won’t love me by the end of it.”

“Start talking and we’ll see.” Sonny said wearily. 

“Okay.” Rafael sighed deeply, scared for the first time of losing the love of his life. “I was working as a clerk, about ten years ago. For Judge Ramirez. I knew Elizabeth from school – she was studying business, I was studying…well – “ Rafael gestured to himself, forgetting his environment for a second. His face sank when he realized that there was no fancy suit, no crisp shirt, no suspenders, no flashy tie to adorn him; just a drab greyish blue hospital gown that just-about covered him beneath these cheap hospital sheets. Machines in the corner quietly hummed the tune to a song only they could hear, and Rafael took a moment to listen. “I was studying law. Elizabeth came from old money. We never actually spoke but… everyone knew Elizabeth Samuel. She was majoring in business and international relations, but somehow just knew everything. She was valedictorian, she knows Latin, French, Spanish, and German fluently; she can sing in French and Spanish…”

As his husband continued to sing Elizabeth’s praises to the high heavens, Sonny couldn’t help but sink in his chair. He used to wonder why Rafael would stray – he was hardly subtle, never so overt; but now it was clear. Sonny couldn’t compete with someone as _perfect_ as Elizabeth. Sonny soon grew impatient, and cut Rafael off, “Did you ever love me, Rafael? Or was I just convenient?”

Rafael halted abruptly, looking Sonny in the eyes for the first time since he gained consciousness. “I… Sonny,”

“Dominick.”

“…I loved you with all my heart – I still do – but,”

“But you still fucked her for the entirety of our relationship and marriage?” Sonny’s eyes narrowed to slits as he glared at his husband. Rafael suddenly felt the weight of guilt on his shoulder, and lay back under the gravity of it.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop. And I thought that… maybe if you didn’t know, it wouldn’t hurt you. I never meant to hurt you.” His voice was raw with emotion, and for the first time in a while, Sonny didn’t have to doubt the words Rafael was saying.

 _Except for the time you broke two of my ribs,_ Sonny wanted to say. He shook his head wondering what good it would do at this point. Rafael looked guilty. Whether he did it or not, it looked bad. “Why didn’t you come me when you had problems? I would never judge you.”

“She just understood me better.”

“You never gave me the chance, Rafael!”

“Sonny,” Rafael began; Sonny was too emotionally exhausted to correct him. “I mean, Dominick…” Rafael corrected himself anyway, carefully searching for the right words, “every time you looked at me, I felt guilty. You used to look at me like I was a king, especially when you were shadowing me, your eyes would light up at the tiniest bit of praise – I don’t know – I guess I felt powerful in a way I hadn’t before. When I was with Elizabeth, I wasn’t myself… once the drugs took over I – “

“You could have come to me.”

Barba wrung his hands together. Sonny just didn’t get it: that his pride wouldn’t let him ask for help. That he had to deal with this alone. “No. I saw how you spoke about your brother in law. The drunk. I couldn’t bear to crush that image you had of me. I couldn’t bear to have you look at me like that – like I was dirt. Or to have your face contort in disgust when you say my name; like it left a bitter taste in your mouth. I never wanted you to stop loving me like you did.” Rafael chuckled bitterly, an ugly choked sound that escaped his throat in a poor disguise of genuine humour. “Guess it’s too late now, huh?”

Rafael watched Carisi stand silently. Watched as his husband’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as his husband swallowed around the intricate knot of unspoken words that no doubt occupied his throat. Carisi’s hands found each other, and his nimble fingers twisted until the gold band was free of his finger. The detective placed his wedding ring on the sheet beside Barba’s IV. Barba shook his head frantically, prompting fresh, salty tears to stream down his cheeks. Sonny turned to walk away; but Rafael couldn’t let go, not like this.

Rafael reached out as far as he could, managing to grab hold of Sonny’s shirt sleeve. He yanked at the sleeve, forcing Sonny to look at him for a few seconds. “For what it’s worth, if I could take it all back, if I could undo it all, and not hurt you, I would.” Sonny jerked out of Rafael’s grip.

“Too little, too late.” Sonny said quietly.

“Sonny, wait! Please don’t go. I didn’t do it, I swear. I… Please. I don’t know how I can live without you.”

Sonny paused, hesitating on the last step. _Was he really going to go through with this? Walk away and leave his husband like this?_  “You’ll learn to.”


	4. The Half Truth and Nothing But

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one gives the full story without a little 'motivation'.

**28 th July**  
**Manhattan SVU, 16 th Precinct**  
**Sergeant Olivia Benson’s Office**

To be fair to her body, Olivia could admit that perhaps coffee wasn’t the healthiest thing she could have filled it with, but it was five thirty and she’d just pulled an all-nighter single-handedly arranging for a subpoena over Elizabeth Samuel’s phone records and financial information. There was something Ms Samuel was hiding, and if Olivia was to find it, it would be in the mountain of paper she had printed out sometime after three a.m. She scoured through months and months of phone calls, looking for patterns and repetitions – anyone that could lay bare the truth of Elizabeth Samuel.

It was just about six a.m. when Olivia found a pattern: once a month from the beginning of the year, a single phone number called Elizabeth Samuel’s phone, and remained on call for a period of time ranging from fifteen minutes to an hour. After that, it called once a week, then in succession, every three hours, from three days before, up until the night of the attack. Her joys turned to unease as when she request TARU put a trace on the device. The phone belonged to none other than Detective Sonny Carisi of the Manhattan Special Victims Unit.

“Fuck,” She cursed into the empty office. Using the office phone – _keep all contact official and on the record from now on_ – Olivia called Carisi. The conversation was short and curt, given the hour. Sonny sounded drunk, but Olivia wrote it off as exhaustion. He looked like he hadn’t slept in the days after this ‘tragedy’ had befallen him and Barba. Sonny hung up after agreeing to come into the office early, at Olivia’s _special_ request, for an off-the-record conversation. Olivia didn’t mention the phone records. She couldn’t let Carisi come in already on the defensive. She would be subtle in her approach.

It was some time later when Sonny stumbled out of the elevator, halfway out his jacket, with only one shoe laced up. “Hey! Sarge?” He continued through the familiar hallway, following the dim glow emanating from Sergeant Benson’s office. He steadied himself, a heavy palm on a nearby desk, on the way there. _Shit, Raf’s scotch is stronger than it looks_. He twisted the knob to Benson’s office and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He inhaled deeply – Liv couldn’t know he’d been drinking; that would make his whole reality fall apart like a house of cards.

Olivia surveyed Sonny’s dishevelled form carefully. Individually, his messy deportment could be written off as a simple characteristic quirk, but all the pieces fitting together the way they did… paired with the way Sonny lingered at her office door, just a moment too long… “Are you drunk?”

“No. I had one drink with dinner.” His speech was well-enunciated, slow and deliberate. Too deliberate. Olivia narrowed her eyes, smelling the stale scotch on Sonny’s breath. He was definitely drunk. Maybe she could use this opportunity to get the truth out of him.

 “Is there a reason why you didn’t tell us you know the victim?” Olivia wanted to deck the junior detective across the face with the plaque on her desk, but that would be rather… unprofessional.

“What?” Sonny’s face was the picture of confusion.

“The same victim claiming that your husband raped her? You didn’t think it was something worth mentioning?” So much for subtle.

“I did not know I knew her.” Sonny said quietly. He sat back in the chair, shoulders straight and back stiff. “We probably met, for the most, a total of, what, three times in six years.” His originally clear speech was now punctuated with nonsensical pauses; _Sonny’s a bad liar,_ Olivia thought.

“How could you not know her? She came to your wedding, Carisi.” Olivia rubbed her eyes, exhaling forcefully from her nose. She hated being kept in the dark, but she hated being lied to even more. She tapped her foot under her desk.

“A lot of people did – why do I get the feeling you don’t trust me?” Carisi’s voice was thin and ragged, exhaustion and liquor lazily trailing behind every syllable he spoke in a thicker-than-usual Staten Island accent. “What’s this about?”

“I need you to convince Barba to take a plea.”

“He won’t admit to something he didn’t do.”

“His blood is at the crime scene. How do you know he didn’t do it?” Olivia challenged. Sonny averted his eyes, surrendering the staring contest he held against Olivia. She mentally slapped herself. Maybe she should be more compassionate toward the junior detective. He’d clearly been stressed enough to drink an entire bottle of… something. “Look, I think Elizabeth Samuel is lying about something. What can you tell me about her?”

“Not much,” Carisi scratched at his scalp, and Olivia’s eyes caught the missing ring. “She went to Harvard, she was valedictorian, studied business and IR, knows like five languages… Barba speaks about her like she’s the smartest thing he’s ever heard of. Um…” Carisi didn’t know what to say, “She wears these rings that he gave her a couple years back, a gold and silver set? I don’t know what you want, Sarge.” Sonny’s head was swimming in liquor, and he struggled to keep a hold of his tongue.

“That’s all you want to tell me?” Olivia asked. She wanted nothing more to just toss this case in the trash, but the more she dug the more questions she had. “We tapped Ms Samuel’s phone.” Sonny's fingers went to twist at the wedding ring, before realizing it wasn't there. He instead twisted the light stripe of skin which the ring previously covered. 

“Okay, okay. I called her. But only to tell that she made a mistake. That Barba couldn’t have done it.” Sonny rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. He was ensnared in Olivia’s trap – there was no way he could deny or stonewall his way out of this. Rafael was guilty. And there was no way anyone, not even a loving husband, could protect him. “I know I shouldn’t have, but…”

“You’re on the hook for witness tampering, Carisi, and obstruction.” Olivia almost growled. This was supposed to be an open-and-shut case, a victim who knew her attacker, with visible injuries. Always easy to prosecute. But since then, it had turned into a tipsy heroin-addicted victim, who knew her drunk heroin-addicted attacker, with visible and invisible injuries caused by a crowbar. “You called Elizabeth over and over and over again since the beginning of this year. Why?”

“I told you, I –“

“May 26th – for 45 minutes? What aren’t you telling me?” The sergeant shoved the call logs into Carisi’s chest, and he swayed, holding it there to prevent the sheets of paper from falling to the floor. ”Why are you trying to intimidate a witness? You saw what Barba did to that poor woman!”

“Poor woman? She got him hooked on heroin!!” Sonny yelled, his face red. He stood and pointed at Olivia. “She caused my marriage to fall apart. She got him drunk. She got him high.”

“She had it coming?”

“Yes!” Sonny snarled, “She’s the reason I’m in this mess!” Sonny clenched his fists, his hands shaking with long-pent-up fury. He’d had to transfer through eight departments across three boroughs in the five years he and Barba had been married. Commanding officers always asked too many questions about the inexplicable black eyes and split lips and broken noses. _Where?_ Was the scariest thing that could come out of a captain’s mouth. _Where did that bruise come from? Or that one? Why did you miss work last week?_ Somehow, the answer of _my ADA husband refused to let me leave the apartment, stole my gun and kept it aimed at my head while forcing me to suck him off; and instead of fighting back, I let him take what he wanted_ never seemed right for the situation. “Whenever Liz got him high, or drunk, he had to come home eventually. And when he did, I had to deal with the consequences.” He counted off the incidents on his fingers, “I have had a punctured lung, broken ribs, broken wrist, bruised trachea, multiple concussions, and once he broke all the fingers in my left hand for trying to leave him. All the things I had to deal with were her fault. And you’re taking her side.”

“Detective Carisi, I…” Olivia’s jaw was slack, ‘ _I’m sorry’_ just didn’t seem right, “She’s a victim, but you’re a victim too. Have you sought counselling for… for the a-abuse?”

Sonny scoffed.

Well, if Barba was guilty of the crimes he was accused of, he’d had practice. Carisi and Samuel had both suffered broken ribs and bruised tracheas; seems Barba had a thing for leaving marks. “Right. Um…” Olivia sighed deeply, looking for a topic change. But what do you ask a drunk subordinate detective at six-thirty in the morning? “Where’s your ring?” she tried.

“I left the bastard.” Sonny replied with a snarl. “I think he deserved worse.”

Olivia scratched absent-mindedly at her wrist, wondering where the gentle detective had gone. Carisi’s soft soul had suddenly turned bitter and vengeful, hardened by year of Barba’s abuse. Olivia was perturbed. She had been a police officer for almost two decades – she was supposed to be able to read people – but she never noticed Barba’s addiction, or the abuse. Yes, Carisi had only just gotten to SVU, but… she should have known. She grimaced, realizing that throughout their entire exchange, Sonny hadn’t said his husband’s name, not once. “What did you talk about with her?”

“I was thinking of buying a house.”

“She’s a stock broker, Carisi.”

Sonny laughed, the liquor no doubt giving him a twisted sense of humour, “This,” he motioned at the space between and around them, “between us, is just a friendly conversation, right?”

 ~~ _No, I think you're lying to me._~~ “Yeah.”

“Well, how about the next time we talk, I have a lawyer.” Sonny’s words were nothing less than hostile, and Olivia knew there wouldn’t be another ‘interview’ like this again. Sonny was hiding something, and she wouldn’t find out what was by talking to him.

“Not a problem.” Olivia said with a false smile; she called after Carisi’s retreating form, “I hear Rafael Barba’s pretty decent!” It was a low blow and she knew it. The sleep deprivation was no excuse for using Rafael’s abuse against Carisi, and he made that fact clear.

Sonny froze, frame stiff. He turned around slowly, so slowly that Olivia had time to count how many steps he took – eight – then lunged at the Sergeant. “Fuck you!” he shouted, grabbing Olivia’s shirt. This reaction attracted the attention of a few freshly-minted officers who were taking the graveyard shift; their hands hovered over their guns awaiting Olivia’s approval to un-holster. When she displayed an open palm – _stand down_ – to the officers, they slowly backed off, even as their eyes stayed focused on Benson and Carisi. Benson spoke with her eyes _don’t do something stupid._ Carisi released the now-wrinkled fabric he’d had balled up in his hand. He spoke no words, but glared at his commanding officer, before unceremoniously taking his exit.

Somehow, Olivia knew Carisi wouldn’t be back on his own accord. Not unless she found some very concrete evidence to _motivate_ him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there anyone who isn't hiding something?


	5. Open Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To have and to hold… To love and to cherish… In sickness and in health…

**12 noon.**  
**1 st August**  
**Barba-Carisi Condo**  
**Midtown Manhattan**

“Y-you didn’t come to my hearing…” Rafael said quietly, shuffling through the door to their pristine apartment. Ever since they’d started dating, Sonny had come to every single one of Rafael’s hearings, arraignments, indictments, cross-examinations, and sentencings. Rafael himself had never been the one on trial, but he hoped Sonny would have been there to support him – no matter how crazy the idea sounded. His eyes caught Sonny, who was sitting on the floor, hunched over in front of the plush couch. Beside him lay the crystal decanter, very much depleted of the dark amber liquid that Rafael knew it once held. Rafael felt the guilt stab at his heart; he had been so busy thinking about Elizabeth, and his case, and how to beat it, he forgot about Sonny. Is this how Sonny was coping with the stress? The stress of Rafael in his life? Rafael bit his lip, wanting nothing more than a litany of apologies to pour out and make everything better. Wanting nothing more than to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness and absolution. Wanting nothing more than to confess his soul and see Sonny’s eyes light up like they did years ago. Before all this. Rafael closed the door behind him, cringing at the sound it made. Slowly, he shrugged out his jacket as though it carried the weight of the world with it; he hung it up, then reached into its pocket to retrieve Sonny’s wedding ring. Rafael closed his eyes as he clasped his fingers over it. He sighed.

“No, I didn’t.” Sonny’s voice broke Rafael from his thoughts, and he jumped. Sonny spoke slowly, his words sliding off his tongue like rich honey – thick and sweet. Sonny paused, staring through Rafael, and Rafael glanced backwards wondering if there was something he had missed. Sonny stayed like this long enough for Rafael to focus on the clock ticking away in the kitchen – where it was counting down the hours to his next court date – but Rafael never took his eyes off Sonny. Not for a second. “I…” Sonny trailed off, his face contorted in a mixture of hurt, pain, and confusion. Rafael wanted to crouch down in front of his husband, hold him in his arms and kiss away all the pain and worry that had been etched into his face. He shuffled closer to Sonny, stopping about ten feet away. He wanted to reach out and touch Sonny, let his fingers find the dips in his cheeks, the pulse-point of his neck, the curved scar where neck met shoulder, the small pools of his clavicles… but Rafael was a stranger to them now, an unwanted visitor, even in their home. “This was a mistake.” Sonny’s words were flat but his eyes still searched Rafael’s for confirmation. Rafael watched the thought process go through Sonny’s head; his husband trembled. It was small, and soft, and Rafael noticed.

“What was a mistake?” Rafael left out the endearment _baby_ for fear of Sonny’s reaction. Still, he could feel the warming metal ring in the palm of his hand, and wanted it desperately back on Sonny’s finger. He knew it would take time to repair his relationship; that is, if Sonny even still wanted to be with him. Sonny dropped his head to his knees with a little more force than Rafael thought necessary. He watched as Sonny seemed to wipe his forehead on his jeans, over and over, turning his head from left to right. Slowly, he raised his head to look at Rafael again and drained the glass beside him in one swift motion. Whatever response Rafael had been expecting mingled with the aged scotch and slid down Sonny’s throat, and Rafael watched it do so. Watched as Sonny flicked it back, watched it swirl around his Adam’s apple, and knew the exact moment it hit his stomach. Sonny smiled stiffly up at Rafael, his eyes very much out of touch with the expression.

“Protecting you.”

“What do you mean? I didn’t do it. I never touched Elizabeth.“ The words tumbled out of Rafael’s mouth, quick to jump on the defensive. He couldn’t take it back, but immediately regretted it. He had broken the peace of the apartment, and Rafael would never forgive himself. He watched as Sonny flinched at the mention of Elizabeth, swinging his head back to hit the wall behind him. Rafael cringed, doing everything he could to prevent himself from rushing forward and cradling Sonny’s head in his hands. Sonny did it again, seemingly impervious to pain, and Rafael heard the sound echo off the wall.

Sonny’s laugh was humourless, “We both know you did more than touch her.” Rafael clenched his jaw, anger flushing through him. He didn’t quite know what he was angry about, though. The implication that he had a _~~rather long~~ _ affair with Elizabeth Teresa Samuel – which was true – the implication that he did drugs with her, and knew her socially – also true – or the implication that he had raped and beat her. He really hoped it was the last one, or he’d drive Sonny’s head right through that damn wall.

“Would you stop that?” Rafael’s voice was soft and coaxing; he knew Sonny didn’t owe him anything. But, as if to mock him, Sonny looked Rafael in the eyes whilst he repeated the action of attempting to cause brain damage. Sonny paused, pouring another tumbler full of scotch, frowning as the decanter emptied. “You drink all that yourself?” Rafael asked, half in shock and half in concern. He slid the ring into his pocket. Now was not the time.

“I was looking to beat your record, Rafi.” Sonny’s tongue brushed over his lips for just a second, remembering scotch-soaked kisses tainted with the threats that came with non-compliance. Rafi’s threats. Crushing blows. Cracks and pops. More scotch. Then silence. No tears. Never any tears. They had a routine, almost like it had been a part of their wedding vows, along with the promises to love and cherish. Sonny felt himself sicken as he considered it fondly. Something must have snapped for him to be so stupid. Rafael had hurt him. Repeatedly. Physically, mentally, psychologically, emotionally, spiritually… Sonny wracked his brain to recall where he’d left his rosary, letting his head bounce off the wall when he failed. He brought the glass up to his lips, musing internally at how they hadn’t gone numb yet, and gulped it down fast enough for Rafael to flinch. He drained the glass, smiling playfully over the rim, wide innocent eyes blinking at Rafael. “How’d I do?”

Fragile and unknowing was Rafael’s least favourite position to be in. His usual response was anger. He’d reach out and hit or hurt the closest thing causing his discomfort. In court it was okay; he could fall back on his many accolades, his experience, his connections. But here? Rafael didn’t know what the correct response was. He didn’t know how to be comforting. Only rough and uncaring. And in a way, that attitude got things done. “Sonny,” Rafael braced for the rejection then correction, but none came. He slowly, almost imperceptibly, approached Sonny, and then crouched beside him. “Why aren’t you at work?” It was irrelevant to the place they were both at – mentally, at least – but it was something. Something gentle and harmless, something so outside what he usually did… and Rafael wondered, is this was how it was _supposed_ to be?

Sonny, on the other hand, really did not want to talk right now. Not about work, or about Liv, or about Elizabeth, or Raf’s court case. He looked up at Raf with child-like wonder. “Can we talk about this later?” He reached across for the glass, somehow forgetting that he’d emptied the contents of it some 15 minutes ago. Sonny sniffed and rubbed his eyes, no longer content to stay in this liquor-less position. He stood, jumping up way faster than was probably safe for a drunken detective with a possible concussion. Before Rafael could gather himself, Sonny had pushed past him and was struggling with the latch on the front door.

“Where are you going?” Rafael traced Sonny’s path to the door and stood behind him. He placed his hands over Sonny’s, and Sonny stilled. Sonny leaned his forehead against the mahogany door, letting slow breaths calm him. Rafael felt an intimacy he hadn’t felt before, felt Sonny’s inhalations and exhalations against his chest. Sonny pivoted in the tight space, turning to face his husband. His eyes, to Rafael’s surprise, weren’t glassy. They were clear and focused and triggered something deep inside Rafael.

“I don’t know…” Sonny pouted, “Kiss me?” His request was airy, light, and unassuming. It was more a question than a request, the words themselves confused of their purpose and unaware of their gravity. All of a sudden, feeling Sonny’s breath on his face didn’t feel comforting. Rafael was crowded and uncomfortable, in too small a space. He took a step back, and Sonny raised his eyebrows. “C’mon, you know I love it when you kiss me…”

“Y-you don’t know what you want right now. You’re drunk, very drunk, and you need to sleep it off, okay?” As much as he wanted to be close to Sonny right now, a drunken sexual encounter just seemed the opposite of smart and rational right now. Rafael walked slowly backwards, away from the potential crime scene that was Dominick Carisi. A sex crimes ADA and a sex crimes detective who both know that consent under the influence isn’t consent at all and _Fuck._ Rafael had raped her. He shook his head, “No, no.” He tried to convince himself that this was all some dream, but… He sank into the couch, knocking over the decanter that Sonny had left. He hadn’t forced Elizabeth, but he had definitely taken advantage of her. _“Oh God.”_ Rafael ran to the kitchen, emptying the contents of his stomach into the trashcan next to the counter, leaving a confused Sonny in his wake.

“Rafi…” Sonny sang the nickname like a child, with eyes naïve enough to envy Noah’s, “what’s the matter?”

“Shut the fuck up, Sonny. Just… stop.” Wiping his mouth on the kitchen towel, he threw it in the sink, disgusted with himself. “I-I have to go.” His legs moved faster than his brain, clearly knowing where to go more than he did.

“Wait.” Sonny grabbed a hold of the arm Rafael hadn’t managed to put in his jacket yet, “Stay, please.” Sonny’s eyes were bright, reflecting part of the sunlight that streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the expensive condo. His lips trembled, but his grip on Rafael did not loosen. “Please.” He said again, fear creeping into his voice. Rafael had said once, that he couldn’t live without Sonny, but maybe the reverse was true. He couldn’t lose Rafael. Not again. Rafael stilled his movements, looking Sonny in the eye. He shook his head and shrugged off his jacket.

“Okay.” Rafael murmured in surrender. He would stay with Sonny… but he knew he didn’t deserve the privilege. Sonny let go of Rafael’s arm, and Rafael followed Sonny to the couch. Silently, he wrapped his hand around the wedding band in his pocket.

 

_To have and to hold… To love and to cherish… In sickness and in health…_

 

* * *

 

 **Flashback to the 15 th July**  
**The Night of the Attack**  
**Sometime after 11pm.**

“I don’t know what you expect me to say.” She pursed her lips, running a hand through her hair. She’d cut it short last month and enjoyed how the style went with everything… except jealous husbands. The alleyway was relatively clean, free of the rats and other vermin that usually crawled about New York City. Still, it was damp from the rain that had fallen a couple of hours prior, and the dark clouds overhead didn’t look too promising.

“I w-want an explanation.” This man definitely wasn’t the one for Barba, she knew that. “I want to know why you chose him.” He was missing the swagger the oozed from the ADA’s every pore. This man was all loose limbs, programmed to cooperate in the least efficient manner as possible. Shame they had once called each other friends.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, _really?_ this was a waste of her time. “You’re really gonna have to take this up with Rafi, cause I can’t help you.” She attempted to push past Carisi, but he blocked her path. She knew this obviously wasn’t a robbery. She had already offered the rather _witty conversationalist_ her bag, purse, and jewellery, but he refused them all. She cleared her throat as if to clear the tenseness, and looked him in the eye. At least her heels took away his height advantage. She looked him in the eye, but didn’t recognize him. His eyes were tired and cold, yet they missed the bags Barba’s possessed. She stood up straighter and sighed, “What do want from me, Sonny?”

“Please.” Sonny bit his lip, “I want out.”

Elizabeth tried not to laugh, “Your husband’s a Harvard-educated ADA, and you’re studying for the Bar. You’ve never heard of divorce?”

“He’d ruin me. Liz, you have to help me.” Sonny’s eyes pleaded with Elizabeth. Elizabeth regarded him carefully, watching how he nervously tapped his foot, or rubbed his throat, or glanced behind him. She wondered what she was looking for, but knew better than to ask. Being around Rafi so long meant she knew what he was afraid of. Still, it was pretty risky to come here. She wonders if he’d known about the affair longer than he let on.

“You can’t tell me he’s never gotten rough with you. He’s never kept going after you said no?” Sonny looked vulnerable, open, and Elizabeth knew exactly how she could crush him if she wanted to. But she didn’t. Part of her empathized with Sonny. She looked at her shoes her confident and professional demeanour wavering for just a second. Sonny continued, “I know you knew him longer, but…”

“What do you want me to do?” She snapped. Elizabeth kissed her teeth, irritated with this whole situation, “Sonny, we had an agreem – “

Sonny’s tongue darted out to moisten his chapped lips, “Liz, I want him out of my life for good. I want to teach him a lesson.”

“How do propose that, genius?” She was irritated, and refused to hide it. She and Sonny had made an arrangement a while back. They would stay out of each other’s way, and everything would be amicable. Of course, the Staten Island idiot had trouble following instructions.

“Hard time. Up in Attica, preferably.”

Elizabeth stared at him, eyes wide, “You know that that’s… illegal, right?”

Sonny scoffed, “No more than selling heroin,” He tilted his head, “or is it coke this time?” Sonny winked at her, smugly enjoying that he had the upper hand. He could arrest her right now if he wanted to. Tie her up in court for the next six months. Hey, she could get off scot-free, but at the very least, he would cause some major inconvenience. Inconvenience he knew Liz would rather avoid. “You gonna work with me? Or does the Narcotics Bureau need to be called in to assist?”

Elizabeth had always hated when people forced her hand. “I’ll make sure you regret this, Dominick.”

Sonny laughed heartily, “I’m sure you will.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't catch on in the last chapter, you'd see Sonny has known E.A.S. for longer than he lets on.  
> Also, plot development! Yay!


	6. The Court (of Law & Public Opinion)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I told you that you would regret this.

**3 rd August**  
**Manhattan Criminal Court**  
**Courtroom #4**

Rafael remembers Sonny’s beautiful body beneath him, framed in a warm orange glow formed by the lamp on the bedside table. He remembers Sonny’s fingers gripping at his torso, if only to feel the closeness of Rafael’s heartbeat. He remembers the way Sonny panted his name in between broken gasps, the soft pink lips sheltering Rafael’s nickname in the safety of a marital bed; a safe space for the dreamy sighs and glassy eyes. _“Rafi…”_ Sonny had breathed the name like a prayer of absolution, sweet and subdued, like he was drunk in the moment. And Rafael had cradled Sonny’s face with his hands, pressing needy kisses to his husband’s lips, cheeks, eyelids, and earlobes… his actions tender and begged for forgiveness. And when Sonny had reached his peak, blissed out, he gripped at Rafael’s shoulders, back arched, mouth open, eyes shut. Sonny let his body fall back onto the duvet, sending a crooked smile up at his husband. In that moment, everything was okay. They had fallen asleep after that, a tangle of stray limbs and determined heartbeats. But when Rafael awoke, Sonny was missing. Rafael has (or rather, _had_ ) no idea where Sonny would go. Even worse, Sonny refused to answer his phone. Rafael had left countless messages in a vain attempt to get into contact with Sonny. Rafael just hadn’t been able to get a hold of him. Until now.

It had been two days since Sonny up and left him alone and confused in that plush bed. By some means though, Sonny had found his way into the gallery of Courtroom Number Four. But Sonny looks nothing like Rafael remembers. Dark brown strands of hair fall into Sonny’s face every time he glances behind him – which is often – prompting him to nervously slick back his hair with a no-doubt sweaty palm. Rafael wishes he wouldn’t. He doesn’t understand why Sonny dyed his hair, but he prefers when the tendrils shield Sonny’s eyes. Rafael watches as Sonny yet again slicks back his hair, revealing the ugly red and purple bruising all down the right side of his face. Butterfly strips line a gash across his forehead and his right eye is bandaged – no doubt a fractured eye socket. Rafael wondered if Sonny was in any pain, wanting desperately to fix it, but even more to kill whoever dared harm his husband.

Sonny stood, and made his way to the witness stand with eyes glued to the floor. The judge swore him in – right hand on the bible – and Sonny stared straight ahead as he recited the oath, never once acknowledging his husband’s presence. “Huh?” Sonny said distractedly.

“I asked if you were coerced into giving your testimony today, Detective.” Alex Cabot commanded attention in a pinstripe pants-suit. Rafael had to give her props for asking if Sonny was coerced. It may have harmed his defense and narrowed his options, but it was a smart move on her part. Sonny looked like someone had come at him with a baseball bat and he hadn’t even put up a fight.

“No, Counselor. I am freely and wilfully giving this testimony.” Sonny said with as much conviction as a prisoner about to be executed. His hands disappeared below the front of the witness box, blocking them from Rafael’s view.

“Good.” Alexandra Cabot stood from behind the Prosecutors’ Chair and approached the bench, “You mind telling us what happened to your face?” Rafael raised an eyebrow. There was something in the way she phrased the question, or maybe the way she said it, that put Rafael’s guard up. He could object… but to what? He eased back into his chair, waiting patiently to be struck out by whatever curveball Cabot had up her sleeve.

Sonny rubbed at his throat, and Rafael’s eyes followed the path of Sonny’s hand, once again adorned with a simple gold band, to notice pristine flesh and an absence of bruising. Rafael trusted Sonny to make the right choice, to defend their new-found happiness, to protect Rafael from this obviously malicious prosecution. But Rafael had been married to Sonny long enough to know when he was about to lie. Sonny always rubbed his throat, as though that would cleanse away some of the shame. Rafael wondered if it ever did.

“Rafael hit me.” For the first time, Sonny looked at Rafael, eyes wide open and apologetic.

“Objection, your honour!” Rafael was on his feet before he could decipher whatever Sonny intended by that look. “The w-witness…” Rafael faltered for a second, suddenly unsure of himself. He and Sonny both knew that Sonny was lying – but why? What did Sonny have to gain by putting Rafael at a disadvantage? Rafael glanced up at Sonny, who made a point to avoid Rafael’s gaze. “This testimony is immaterial to the case.” It was a weak argument, but Barba hoped it would buy him time. No such luck.

“Goes to pattern of behaviour – if he can beat his husband, he can beat the victim.” Alex fired back, her tone damning Barba to a 6 by 8 feet cell before the trial was even underway. Rafael shook his head. He should have taken that plea. He turned to face the jury of his peers, hunching ever so slightly as he was greeted with twelve faces of disgust and disapproval. “The charges on the docket include second-degree assault and aggravated battery.”

“I am aware of the charges on file, Ms Cabot,” The judge said, knowing more than anything else that Cabot’s argument was more for jury’s sake than her own. She turned to Barba, “Objection overruled.”

“Your Honour, Son-“ Barba cleared his throat, making a point to address Sonny by his title, “Detective Carisi is lying.”

“Can you prove that, Mr Barba?”

Barba resisted the urge to chew on the inside of his cheek. He knew it didn’t matter whether or not Sonny was telling the truth, but only that he appeared credible. Rafael wondered if the objection was worth it. Maybe he hadn’t left Sonny looking like _that_ this time, but he had done so in the past. And every time he had, he had tried to rationalize it somehow. But still a pang of guilt would stab at him, twisting in his gut. He’d flashback to an image of bloody knuckles cut on teeth and a split lip, Sonny curled into a ball with his elbows tucked in tightly to protect vital organs, Sonny groaning in pain when Rafael was done. Rafael always felt guilty and made a point to be as far away as possible in the aftermath. He would go to the nearest bar and drink away his regret with aged top-shelf liquor. And Sonny would clean himself up and bleach the bloodstains out of the carpet. “No, Your Honour, I can’t.” But still he wondered if it was better to throw in the towel. Sonny clearly wanted Rafael out of his life – why else would he lie on the stand? If Sonny knew he was innocent, then Sonny just didn’t care. _Well,_ Rafael thought, _then neither do I_.

 

 

* * *

 

 **Court Recess – Lunch**  
**North Hallway**  
**Men’s Restroom Entrance**

“It’s not like need help peeing,” Sonny joked in an attempt to ease the tension. Alex Cabot still looked worried, but Sonny waved her off, “Liz probably needs your help with testimony. I’ll see you back in court.”

Alex nodded reluctantly, “Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

“No problem, Counselor.” Sonny smiled, waiting for Alex to turn around before he grimaced. _God, his face hurt_. He pushed open the door to the restroom, and sidestepped to the paper towel dispenser. He ran the cold water over the towels, bunched them up, then unbandaged his eye. He winced at the sight alone. His right eye is still swollen shut, leaking water intermittently. The doc had said there would be no permanent loss in vision, but all for now, Sonny wasn’t too sure. Gently, he pressed the paper towels to his eye, and sighed.

Behind him, she whistled lowly, “That looks pretty painful, Dominick,”

He glanced up in the mirror, and seeing her face, unholstered and spun around. She raised an eyebrow, unfazed at the sight of the police-issued service weapon. She’d stared down a barrel plenty of times. She laughed, putting her dazzling white teeth on display. “You gonna shoot me? Here? In a courthouse full of police officers? Put the gun away.”

“What do you want, Elizabeth?” Sonny didn’t falter, his barrel still pointed at the space between Elizabeth’s eyes.

“Just wanted to commend you on your performance in court today. Even had me fooled.” She made herself small, and as if to mock him, affected Sonny’s accent, “ _Rafael hit me…”_ she mimicked joyfully, “ever thought of being actor?”

“No.”

“It’s an awful shame. A waste of talent if you ask me…” She let out an exaggerated sigh, hopping up onto the sink counter. She swung her legs over the edge like a school-girl on a playground swing, and Sonny adjusted his grip on the trigger. “You know Rafael will be found guilty after my testimony tomorrow – tell him to throw in the towel. You said you wanted out.”

“Why are you doing this?” Sonny wanted to pull that trigger so badly. But his rational side knew that that’s what Elizabeth wanted: for him to dig a deeper hole for himself. “I changed my mind.”

“You hit me with a crowbar.” Elizabeth deadpanned, “Why the fuck do you can just change your mind after that? Anyway, your perjury’s on the record now, Sonny.” Elizabeth grinned, “there’s no way out of this. Not even with that dreadful dye-job. Thought you could hide?”

“In plain sight, actually.” Sonny holstered his weapon, and stared Elizabeth down, “You already ruined his life once. Why do you need to do it again?”

“Ruined his life? I was the only fun he had! You were an exhausting obligation.” Sonny watched as Elizabeth folded her arms, no longer as cool and collected as she was a minute ago. “Plus, you’re the one that set this in motion.”

“I’ll admit to perjury then, confess the whole plot.” It was one way to make this all go away - short of running off to some non-extradition country. But Sonny worried about a vindictive DA’s office. Sonny wasn’t completely innocent. He had used his badge to engineer this entire situation, and the higher-ups wouldn’t be too happy with that.

“Do that and you lose your job, your family, and most importantly, Rafael.” Her heart really wasn’t in it, but she was a woman of her word and she always keeps her promises. The only way to make Sonny pay was to make Rafael collateral damage. That… and beat Sonny with a golf club.

“No, Liz. Rafi loves me. You might have been fun for him, but he’s really changed.” Sonny watched as Elizabeth cocked her head to the side, pretending to mull over some complex theory. She shrugged.

“Remember this conversation when you’re visiting him in prison, ‘kay?” She hopped off the sink, and stepping almost flush against Sonny. She raised a hand to his face, placing it lightly over Sonny’s bruised side. “Apparently a 9 iron to the head isn’t enough to knock some sense into you.” She pressed down firmly, digging her nails in to cause as much pain as she could in those short seconds. Sonny jerked out of her grip, clenching his jaw, and holding his face as it stung. Liz took the opportunity to side-step Sonny and reaches the door. “I told you that you would regret this. How does it feel?” She sniped at him, letting the door swing slowly shut behind her.

“Fuck!” Sonny yelled into the empty room, gripping the sink as the echo cursed back at him. The only way out of this was a mistrial. Even then, no one comes out smelling like a rose. “ _Fuck.”_


	7. Not/Guilty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hint hint. Prepare yourselves.

**11 th August**  
**Motel Room 215**  
**Second Floor**

The sunlight streamed through the blinds and struck Sonny in the face. He wanted nothing more to bury his face into the pillows and curl back up under the sheets, but he knew better. Even though his bruises had been healing nicely, his eye and the bridge of his nose were still _tender_ and Sonny knew not to put them in any position liable of turning tender into _excruciating_. He ought to get up anyway – he didn’t know what time it was, but the motel he was staying in stopped serving breakfast at 11. Sonny shrugged off the sheets covering his pyjama-clad body, noting again that they were surprisingly soft for the price he had paid. The department was covering all his expenses, so he couldn’t exactly request The Four Seasons… also, considering the location of the supposed crime scene… that would be in poor taste.

Sonny reached for his phone, frowning as he saw no missed calls. He sighed and shook his head – had he really expected anything different? Sonny was probably the last person Barba would turn to for help now. Sonny was entirely responsible for Barba’s conviction, even if it was in absentia. With Barba on the run, Benson had been breathing down his neck for any hints – a location, friends, family – but Sonny truly didn’t know anything, and it broke his heart. Sonny called Barba’s phone, hoping that the police didn’t still have a warrant for his phone records, but suspicious regardless. “Please pick up…”  


_“I’m sorry, the number you have dialled is unavailable or out of service.”_

  
Sonny stood up, tossing his phone on the bed behind him. How had he made such a mess? Sonny twisted his wedding ring about his finger, mulling over the possibilities. There was no way Rafael was still in New York – not with all the publicity surrounding the Samuel case, and the Fugitive Apprehension Team on his tail. Sonny knew why Rafael had done it – run away – when your own husband testifies against you with a battered face, and says you did it; what else can you do? Barba was a sex crimes ADA on trial for sexual assault – Sonny figured that the public was just fed of powerful people taking advantage of their positions. Once convicted of domestic abuse in the jury’s mind, the drug abuse and sexual assault weren’t too far behind. They really thought Rafael was capable of the pure evil that was dreamed up, but never once – not for a second – would have believed him about Rafael’s violence towards him. Sonny is sure of that: he did what he had to do for his safety. Sonny _could_ go looking for Rafael but Olivia had made it very clear that he was not to leave the hotel.

He shuffled to the en-suite kitchen – if it could be called that – and started a pot of coffee, musing over how much it reminded him of Rafael. It was just past 10 in the morning, and Rafael probably would have already gone through the first pot. Sonny smiled sadly, he’d really fucked this up, hadn’t he? He leaned against the counter as the smell of coffee permeated the hotel suite. Would Elizabeth know? Barba had always been more sympathetic towards her, even trying to apologize for (her perception of him) hurting her. Of course, Sonny knew there had been nothing to forgive, but he admired the effort that Barba had put into making amends. Sonny should call her.

Sonny can’t call her. It would look bad. Sonny rolled his eyes; why did he care what it looked like? At this point, everything looked bad. Everything was bad. Filling a mug of coffee, Sonny ventured back over to the bed where he’d discarded his phone earlier. He found Elizabeth’s number and dialled.

 

Elizabeth’s voice was a melody when she picked up, “Hey Charles!”

“It’s Sonny.” Sonny pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment, frowning at the device. He only knew one Elizabeth. And as far as he knew that one Elizabeth knew his name wasn’t Charles, and would never be so happy to hear from him.

“Of course,” Elizabeth laughed falsely, “I know how you love golfing!” There was a long pause and Sonny heard a rustle, “Yes, you are a fiery one! I’ll meet you at the country club at 6.”

“What? Country club? Golfing?” Sonny set the mug down, tried to figure out if Elizabeth was high, “I think you have the wrong person, Liz." Why could he ever want to even  **see** another golf club after what Elizabeth did?

“No, no,” Another laugh, “but you can connect me at the office extension +135. Okay,” Liz coughed, “Buh-bye.”

“Wait, w – “ Sonny heard the phone click, and like that, Elizabeth Samuel left Sonny very very puzzled. After all that Elizabeth had done, she was still stonewalling. What more could she want? Barba was already going to prison once the FAT found him, she was already scot-free, Sonny’s life was already in tatters… At this point, she was doing nothing but rubbing it in his face.

Sonny sighed. He just wanted to go home; he really did, if it didn’t remind him of Barba every day. He glances at the now-cold mug of coffee and leaves it there. He can’t be bothered right now. Slowly, he shuffles to the bathroom, disrobes, and climbs into the shower. Steam fills the room as the sting of hot water scalds his skin. Sonny doesn’t care. He scrubs roughly, hoping that if enough of the dirt comes off, he can be forgiven. Soon enough, the steam makes him dizzy and he switches the water to as cold as it can get. He gasps under the icy chill, shivering as it stings his delicate skin. But he was definitely awake now. The faint smell of metal in the air is now overshadowed by the jasmine-scented body wash that the hotel provided. Sonny thinks it smells like Elizabeth.

Now _he_ smells like _her_. The **_her_ ** who had been the object of his husband’s affections for far too long. The precursor to all this trouble. Sonny doesn’t know how he was supposed to react to the news. He steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist. It’s warm enough for him to be afforded the privilege of air-drying. Did he ever even allow himself to react? Sonny didn’t think so… he was always so good at playing the loving husband, and even when he had found out – and sobbed himself to sleep that night – there had been no recourse. No screaming matches or angry voicemails, no forced evictions or divorce proceedings. Just a small, solitary phone call to an old friend for the confirmation on just how shit his husband was at keeping vows. And Sonny had kept that confirmation close to his heart every time Rafael had to ‘ _work late_ ’. Or had a ‘ _charity gala_ ’. Or whatever other bullshit excuse that ( ~~Sonny knew without a doubt~~ ) Rafael was using to see Elizabeth. He had kept quiet, small, silent. Had known better than to speak up. Speaking up got him nothing but (involuntary) time off and a lateral transfer. So he waited, and waited. Until he couldn’t take it anymore.

He followed Barba to the Four Seasons that night, wondering why Rafael would bring his mistress instead of his husband to a place like this. To the _mayor’s fundraiser_. It had been an issue since they had met: Rafael had a taste for the finer things in life, and Sonny… was not one of them. Sonny couldn’t appreciate caviar or foie gras. No, in Raphael’s eyes, Sonny was a commoner. Sonny wondered if that’s why Raphael had been unfaithful. Because Sonny couldn’t fulfill his needs? Because Sonny didn’t like his wrists tied to the headboard? Because he didn’t like the chafe of a leather belt around his neck? Because he didn’t like bruises in the shape of handprints? Sonny had seen the ‘crime scene’ photos; he may have caused her puncture wounds, but the bruise around Elizabeth’s neck had already been there, angry and red, in the shape of his husband’s hands.

The memory filled him with disgust, and he rushed to the kitchen. He removed a stack of plates from the cupboard, letting them support his weight on the counter. Sonny shouldn’t have let this get so far. Slowly, he raised a plate above his head then brought it down onto the counter with all the force he could muster. The porcelain shards scattered about, one nicking him on the chest. He didn’t feel it. Again, Sonny repeated the action, shattering the plate onto the counter. Again and again, he broke plate after plate, until the rage and resentment inside him dissolved.

He yelled into the empty apartment, letting the adrenaline take over. He hadn’t even noticed how deeply he’d sliced into his hand. He held onto his wrist, holding up his bloody hand, observing how the blood pooled in in his palm before sliding over his fingers, and down his arm. He found solace in the smell of copper. Yes, Sonny much preferred this scent over…

Jasmine.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still trying to think of whose side I'm on...  
> Cuz all these characters are pretty shit people at this point.
> 
> Oh, yeah. And prepare yourselves. Cuz someone has to dieeeee.


	8. Vertias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...I'll turn myself in."

 

 **11 th August**  
**Elizabeth Samuel’s Apartment**

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows flew upwards, towards her hairline, in an ostentatious display of shock at the voice behind her. She doesn’t know how he got inside her apartment, but the fact of the matter was, he was here. Slowly, she pivoted around to face him. “Rafi, hey.”

Rafael Barba was a strange relic, reminiscent of his last court appearance. Even on the run, he couldn’t resist a statement piece – a pink paisley tie. Elizabeth watched as Rafael tucked his bottom lip under his teeth and applied steady pressure. He was out for blood, but she could still talk him off this ledge, right? “You and Sonny collude against me?” His voice was still and calm. By his side, held tightly, flat against his thigh what Elizabeth recognized as a knife from her kitchen. It was small, and Rafi’s grip was on the handle was relaxed, almost caressing the hilt with his index finger.

“I…” Elizabeth opened her mouth, closing it when she realized that nothing she could say would make this right. “He knew, baby.” Her voice was soft, but in the silent room it seemed to echo. “About us, about the affair.”

Rafael gripped the handle tightly, “When?” He growled, grinding his teeth.

“About…” she paused to do the math in her head, “a month?” Elizabeth kept her eyes purposely focused on Rafael’s face to keep from staring at the knife, “He threatened to turn me into Narcotics if I didn’t help him.”

Rafael narrowed his eyes, and Elizabeth saw his nostrils flare, even as he stood in the entranceway to the kitchen, “Why didn’t you come to me? I told you I’d protect you!”

“Not from your husband!” Elizabeth retorted, “Not from your husband, _Detective_ Carisi. I couldn’t go to _prison,_ Rafael!” She smoothed her fingers over her head-wrap and exhaled slowly through her mouth. Rafael tilted his head from side to side.

“So you decided to put _me_ there instead?” Rafael shuffled in Elizabeth’s direction, stopping three feet from her. “You aren’t a fucking victim, Elizabeth.” His fingers danced along the handle of the knife, the pads of his fingertips stopping when they came into contact with the cool blade. With the back of the bladed hand, he wiped his forehead. “And I don’t feel sorry for you.”

“What do you want, Rafael?” A Harvard education wouldn’t protect her from a man who needed a fix. “I’ll give you everything I have.” She knew there were maybe twelve grams of heroin in her closet, and unless he had another dealer, he hadn’t had a fix in just over a week. If he would just let her get it…

“I don’t need your shit,” Rafael grumbled. He moved so fast, Elizabeth didn’t realize there was a knife to her throat until she heard Rafael’s voice in her ear, “I want you to pay for your crimes.”

“Then I’ll turn myself in,” Elizabeth attempted to bargain. She wasn’t only looking out for herself; if Rafael had any future of freedom or an overturned verdict, he couldn’t kill her. Rafael scoffed, his left hand gripping tightly at her shoulder whilst he pressed the knife harder against her windpipe. A drop of blood pooled across the blade’s edge from a narrow slit in Elizabeth’s skin, and she hissed quietly, almost silently.

Rafael laughed animatedly, an eerie dissonance from his physical actions, “You really think I’m gonna trust the system that convicted me of rape? No...” Rafael smirked and doubled back, slamming his fist into Elizabeth’s face, and knocking her to the ground. He paused to watch her, the ache in his hand second to the sheer thrill in his veins.  
And it felt good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for (a) the delay, and (b) the length.  
> Veritas is latin for truth, and the motto of Havard University, where Barba and Elizabeth were both educated.


	9. Closed Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the eternity was over, Rafael stood back, his hands shaking with adrenaline.

He only reminisces like this when he’s drunk, and the hotel is more than happy to provide him with the alcohol. He slings the latest bottle down by his side after it empties down his throat. It’s cheap, and it burns like a motherfucker, but not any more than Raf’s aged sort. Sonny really doesn’t see the difference; they both get the job done. The job of getting him out of his head long enough to think straight.

Sonny remembers the feel of Rafael’s delicate fingers tracing his jawline, thumbing away absent-mindedly at his stubble. Rafael would cup the side of his face and stroke the pale flesh behind his ear, before drawing him in slowly, slowly to brush their lips together. When they parted, Sonny let his fingertips dance over his lips as they tingled. A rosy colour made its way across his cheeks and towards his ears, and he giggled nervously, feeling like a teenager again.

Rafael’s eyes sparkled as he took in the love of his life. “Marry me?” He whispered, so quietly that Sonny could have just as easily thought Rafael was talking to himself.

“What?” Sonny’s rosy cheeks turned a bright red, and his face went hot. Had he heard Rafael right? Sonny coasted his thumb across Rafael’s bottom lip, as though it would replay the request. Rafael kissed the thumb softly, taking Sonny’s stray hand between both of his own. He pressed his lips to each of Sonny’s knuckles before repeating himself.

“Marry me.”

 

The ADA was smiling so widely, Sonny swears he can count every single one of Rafael’s teeth. And for the first time, Sonny realizes how Rafael looks at him. Sonny realizes that Rafael _sees_ him. As a whole person, not just a piece of meat, or a great ass, or a goofy joker. Rafael sees all of him, and loves him in spite of it all. He thinks of Rafael’s wit, kindness, patience, status, and experience, thinks of how Rafael always said that he deserved the best. Rafael thought Sonny was the best.

Sonny cups Rafael’s face in his hands and smiles. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Sonny jumps when the bottle clatters to the floor, suddenly all too aware of his surroundings when the sound of glass shattering reaches his ears. He had heard the sound before – on multiple occasions – whenever Rafael’s post-case rages flared a bit too high. The rages that Elizabeth was getting very well acquainted with for the first time.

She flinched away, as far as possible, her jaw dropping in shock as the vase collided with the wall, just inches away from her. Right where her head had been. “Rafael!” she screeched, biting into her bottom lip when she realized that she wasn’t sure what she intended to say next. Instead, she turned her attention to the restraints that held her bound to the radiator. Rafael had used his tie to keep her in place as Rafael went on his tirade. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m…”

“Shut up.” He scratched roughly at his scalp, thinking briefly of Sonny. Elizabeth hadn’t been alone in this, and even though Rafael loved him more than anything, Sonny would know true pain. “I’m going to take my time with you.” He stormed up to her, placing the knife on the table behind him. He gripped at the hem of her skirt and yanked it off. She attempted to swat at him with her free hand, but he had always been stronger. As the skirt was flung behind him, Rafael, for the first time, saw the puckered pinkish-white lines that littered Elizabeth’s thighs. The mottled scars that stuck out in contrast to her dark skin. And his face softened. They had looked bad in the photographs, but then, they had just been a dream, intangible and deniable. Now, Rafael saw the degree of desperation that Elizabeth must have felt in order to go to these lengths. To subject herself to that pain…  
His jaw clenched. The lengths she had gone to sabotage his career and ruin his life?

 Before her pleas of _Rafael, please,_ reached his ears, there was blood on the walls. Rafael raised the knife over his head again, bringing it down into the space between her neck and shoulder. Elizabeth kicked at him, at the same time, trying to block the blade with her free hand. Again, again, again, whilst Elizabeth screamed for God and help and mercy, Rafael plunged the knife into her soft flesh.

When the eternity was over, Rafael stood back, his hands shaking with adrenaline. Elizabeth was slumped over, blood covering her person and the walls around her like a Jackson Pollock painting. Under scrutiny, Rafael could still see the shallow rise and fall of his lover’s back as she gurgled oxygen into punctured lungs. The smell of fresh blood was overwhelming, and Rafael quickly lost his nerve, retching into the carpet as long, hot tears streamed down his face. Maybe he had loved her. In his own fucked up way.

“Fuck,” he coughed, “Lizzie?” the only response which greeted him was the low gurgle of a barely-breathing Elizabeth Samuel. He had to get out of here. _–and left her for dead._ The words from Fin’s interrogation echoed in his head as he stumbled out the back door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, y'all.   
> I'm sure half of you can't even remember what's happened before. Jeez, I'm terrible.


	10. The Celebration (and lack thereof) Of An Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was a convicted felon now.
> 
> [3 month time skip]

**12 th November**  
**2:43pm**  
**Medical Examiner’s Office**

Sonny inched forward slowly, his strides greatly shortened by the shackles around his ankles. Olivia, at his side, had already opened her mouth and closed it again, lost for words. Now, she focused a steely gaze at the door in front of the long hallway. Sonny paused in his shuffling, raising his hands to rub at his neck. The handcuffs, attached to the chain around his waist, stopped him abruptly.

“Is there a problem, inmate?” The guard manning the door said, his voice echoing in the hallway. Sonny shook his head, pushing through the double doors into the morgue, Olivia on his heels. Parting the plastic partition, he looked around the room. Dr Warner was there, eyes solemnly hidden behind glasses. Between them, a metal platform supporting a corpse, covered in a blue sheet.

“Are you ready?” Dr Warner asked, her tone as professional as always. Sonny looked into her expectant gaze, and wondered for a second what she saw. Did she see someone driven to the edge, someone who was pressured until breaking point, an abused man looking for an escape? Or did she see a monster that put a skilled ADA, for the second time, on her table? Sonny nodded silently. He had known this would happen days in advance. But how does someone prepare to see their husband lying cold and dead on a metal slab?

Sonny’s fingers moved to twist at his wedding ring, instead meeting the warm flesh of his other hand. His ring, along with his other personal effects, belonged to the State of New York now. He was a convicted felon. Stripped of his rank and accolades, Sonny was now just a month old headline, easily forgotten. “I did love him, you know.” He said quietly, unsure of whether he was speaking to Benson, Warner, Barba, or the silent room.

Elizabeth had been right; he did regret this. And if he could go back and undo all of it, he would. You closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sterile scent of bleach and disinfectant fill his nose. He wonders if ~~he couldn’t have just held it together a little while~~ l ~~onger~~ he had just confronted Rafael, what might have happened. Rafael might still be alive. _Might._ Who really knows? Rafael might have just as easily died in a hotel bathroom; teeth clenched as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, never to see again, his heart pounding too violently for his body to keep up. Cocaine could have just as easily killed him. Still, the possibility didn’t make Sonny feel any less guilty.

Dr Warner lifted the sheet with gloved hands. Sonny winced as she listed off the injuries that led to Rafael’s death. When she paused, he asked, “Did he suffer?” He watched with cold and tired eyes as her hands moved to cover Rafael’s face with the sheet again. She removed her gloves, and then her glasses. She sighed before explaining, in great detail, how the fall severed Rafael’s spinal cord at the base of his neck, paralysing him from the neck down. His case of death, however, was exsanguination, so Rafael would have been awake and alert for several minutes whilst he bled into the concrete. Rafael may not have felt anything, but he would know he was dying.

Sonny nods. He wonders what Rafael thought of in his last moments. Did he think of Elizabeth in life, the woman he loved before anything? The woman he had robbed of life? Did he think of Sonny, the long-suffering husband? The man he had put through hell and labelled it love? Maybe he thought of betrayal. How vows can be nothing more than words in the right person’s beautiful mouth. That promises to love and cherish can turn into promises to lie and cheat. That you never really know someone, or what they’re capable of when pushed to breaking point. Did he think of liquor? How he should have one last drink before hurling himself off a sixteenth storey ledge of the Four Seasons? Did he pick the Four Seasons to send a message? To punish Sonny? Sonny doesn’t know whether to be proud or terrified at Barba’s sobriety. All that meant was that Barba had willingly and intentionally jumped.

Sonny allows himself, just for a moment, the selfish emotion of joy. He allowed himself to smile for the first time since Barba’s court date had been set. All this time, Sonny had been so worried about infidelity and getting caught, and now… there was nothing to fear. The man he had loved – yes, oh so dearly – and romanticized was dead. And maybe the world was better for it. Maybe the world was better without an abusive, angry man, who beat his husband whenever he felt like it. Who found pleasure in the pain of others. Who hurt without remorse. Who drank himself in a stupor almost every night, and then pretended to be morally upstanding every morning. Maybe, despite all of Sonny’s misdealing, he had done a public good.

Maybe Rafael had thought of everything. Maybe he had thought of nothing.

“Can I touch him?” Sonny asked. Melinda nodded her assent, uncovering the body. Sonny moved forward noisily, his shackles dragging on the linoleum floor. Sonny reached out to hold Raf’s shoulder, recoiling once he realized just how cold Rafael was. The skin was rubbery but taut, and gave way to pressure, Melinda said, only in the areas where there had been catastrophic internal bleeding, and Sonny made a mental note to avoid the ribcage. Sonny kneeled, letting his fingers trace some unknown pattern down Rafael’s arm, holding onto his hand in the very same way he had done in the hospital. Sonny gasped softly, “Where’s his ring?” he asked, looking back at Olivia, then at Melinda.

“We don’t know. It wasn’t on his person, or in the hotel room.”

Sonny’s fingers massaged at the stripe of skin some two shades lighter, on Rafael’s left hand. Rafael would have never taken it off. Then again, Rafael was hardly the type to jump off a building. People do strange things in desperate situations. Sonny had already been through Rafael’s belongings; he doesn’t remember why he decided to be complicit in his own anguish, but he did. Maybe he was looking for a note, some explanation as to why… but didn’t Sonny _know_ why? Just because Rafael hadn’t written it with his own hand, doesn’t mean Sonny didn’t know. Rafael had known there was nothing more for him to lose. Other than his wallet, Sonny found nothing particularly out of place in the personal effects he’d been given that day. Even in death, Rafael couldn’t resist a sharp, bespoke suit. He even wore his baby-blue suspenders, the ones Sonny knew were his favourite. It was strange, but maybe that’s what Barba had needed to set his mind at ease. At ease enough to fling himself off a precipice. Sonny had toyed with them a while, allowing his fingertips to glide over the delicate leather.

“Is he being charged?” Sonny rises slowly, eyeing the door. He shakes his head. It isn’t worth it. His shackles would slow him down considerably, and there’s a guard just outside.

“No,” Olivia said softly, “The evidence found at the scene was conclusive, but the DA is declining to press charges.” _Probably to save them the embarrassment_ , Sonny thinks to himself. Elizabeth would still be alive if they were any good at their jobs. Sonny chuckled to himself, before realizing how out-of-place it must look in a morgue. His realization was confirmed when he looked up to see Olivia’s look of disgust. She knows what they all know. These deaths were preventable.

“And Rafael’s conviction?” Sonny wondered if it was really worthwhile to ask. The man was dead – _may God have mercy on his soul_ – and he was never very good to the living. Maybe Rafael deserved a tainted legacy.

“Vacated posthumously.” Olivia said curtly, suddenly unable to stomach Sonny’s presence. “Time to go, Carisi.”

“Okay,” Sonny shrugged contently, eliciting a grimace from Warner. _The least he could do was show some reverence_ , she thought. Olivia gripped Sonny’s forearm, leading him away from Rafael’s body. “This is all my fault,” he said.

Olivia paused, “Are you admitting to something?” Convicted felon or not, admitting to culpability in the deaths of ADA Rafael Barba, and stock broker Elizabeth Samuel, could tack on another decade to Carisi’s sentence. Olivia knew Carisi was well-versed in New York statute, and the last thing she wanted was for this confession to be considered inadmissible because of a loop-hole that Carisi knew to take advantage of.

“No.” Carisi said it so plainly, Olivia wondered whether or not Carisi was mentally stable. “This is all my fault. I killed them both.” Or whether this was just another plot. This entire shit-show had made it clear to Sergeant Benson that no matter what, you never really know what’s going on in someone’s home, or someone’s head. Carisi had just seen his husband, dead and cold, on a metal slab. This was _excited utterance_ territory.

“Do you want to revise that statement?” Olivia asked. She had been there when the call came in. Carisi’s whereabouts had been confirmed as the safe-house ways away from either Samuel’s residence or the Four Seasons Hotel. Carisi taking credit for a murder that Barba had been proven guilty of, and a ~~murder that was actually~~ suicide made no sense.

“You’re right. ’ _Your language must be precise, as the law is a precise endeavor._ ’ Rafi always said that. And it’s true.” Sonny said with a smile, “I am responsible for both Rafael’s and Elizabeth’s death. Indirectly, of course but responsible nonetheless.”

“Whatever you say, can and will be used against you in the court of law. Are you aware of that?” Olivia looked Carisi in the eye. How had this soft, empathetic detective become so callous and uncaring? Barba had been relentless in court, maybe he was just as relentless at home… but Sonny had known how to hide in plain sight. Sonny had seen battered woman being traipsed in and out of SVU, day in and day out. Maybe it had taken a toll on him. Olivia shook her head. There’s no excuse for two dead bodies in the morgue.

“I did love him. He just didn’t love me.” Sonny said coldly, “Do you know what it’s like to have the man you love hit you every night, and then kiss you every morning? Slap you around, then starch his shirt for court? Defend DV victims every week, and then put you in the hospital? Fuck you while you begged him not to, and then play saint in the courtroom? He…” Sonny laughed harshly, a bitter and entirely humorous sound escaping his desperate throat.

Olivia had heard this before, when the drunken detective had let loose his tongue in his angry tirade. But Sonny was drunk then. So she had pushed it to the back of her mind. Each time she heard it though, she cursed herself for not having seen the signs. Or had she ignored them? Rafael Barba had killed Elizabeth Samuel. If he was capable of that, then… “You could have told…” Olivia began, but it’s half-hearted and unconvincing. And they both know it.

Olivia knocks on the door, stepping back, to allow the guard to take over. Dominick Carisi puts up no resistance. He’s learnt not to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time Skips are fun!  
> It's done! Talk to me!  
> Who was your favourite? Who was your least favourite?
> 
> My tumblr is: jaimesselfishmachines (dot) tumblr (dot) com

**Author's Note:**

> Contact me on tumblr @jaimesselfishmachines


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